


Convalescence

by LittleSpider



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Broken Harry Hart, FIx It, Harry Hart Lives, Hurt Harry Hart, Implied Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, M/M, Platonic Merlahad, Post V-Day, Recovery, Speech Disorders, Whump, close friends, implied Hartwin, mobility issues, post kentucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6483079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpider/pseuds/LittleSpider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin called around the Morgues and Police Departments of Kentucky looking for his 'brother', Harry. </p><p>He never expected a phone call from Intensive Care...</p><p>Harry Hart was alive...</p><p> </p><p>-------------</p><p>Kindly posted with permission from MannersMadeMan on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Convalescence

_ A drumskin... _

_A thick drumskin..._

_A thick...sticky...drumskin..._

 

_ Thick...sticky...flowing...sounds...that bent and flowed together...like gravy...and syrup...And Chutney... _

 

_ So...impenetrable...and yet...he could hear **above** it all... _

 

_ Such...strange noises... _

_ Such...bizarre noises... _

_ Such...intrusive noises... _

 

_Leave me alone...I'm sleeping..._

 

_ Up and Up.  _

_ Thinner...Thinner...Thinner...And louder...and louder... _

 

_ Breaking the thick, viscous skin of it all and... _

 

**PAIN**.

 

Harry's eyes shot open in response. 

 

Well...One of them did. The other was stuck...It was stuck shut.

 

The pupil blown wide open as it strained against blinding light that seemed to shine straight out of the sun itself.

 

… _.Too much effort...Too much effort..._

_...No...No...back...back to sleep.... _

… _.five more minutes..._

_...Sleep this...headache off... _

 

“...Hrrhhrr?? Hrhhrr!!”

 

Harry's eyelid lifted sleepily in response to the sound as he felt something brush his...arm? 

 

Was that his...arm?

 

A blurry figure was in front of him. Too close. And It was big and green...and shiny on top.

 

Harry's open-eye worked to bring it into focus. Squinting as his ears worked to decipher the mumbling that was being blended by the beeping sound. 

 

“...Harry? Harry?! Can y'hear me?”

 

_I know you...I know you..._

 

_ Why don't I know you? _

 

“Alright.” The man nodded. “Harry. If y'can hear me, just...blink for me. Blink twice.”

 

Harry blinked. Twice.

 

The man looked delighted. A smile growing on his worried looking face.

 

“...'Gana! 'Gana! C'mere! He's awake! Harry's awake!”

 

Harry felt like smiling at the familiar stranger's joy, but right now, all he wanted, was to sleep.

_Sleep for a while longer..._

 

 

*

 

Merlin was sat besides his bed, a clipboard in hand, a soft and patient smile on his face.

 

“...Alright, do you know your name? Y'can...nod, if y'want.”

 

Harry nodded.

 

His name was Harry Hart, and he was a member of the elite intelligence organization known as Kingsman that operated above the restraints of government and constraints of politics.

He had over 50 successful missions under his belt, and...currently couldn't manage more than a few simple words to convey what he wanted.

 

He nodded.

 

Merlin nodded and smiled hesitantly as he made a few notes on his clipboard.

 

“...Alright, next question. Do you know who **I** am?”

 

Harry nodded. 

 

_ Your name is Merlin, I don't know your real name, but it's never really mattered. You were always 'Merlin'. You come from Glasgow, and like biscuits. You're the Quartermaster of Kingsman, and your favourite toy is the Rainmaker. You slaved over it for months and months. When I chose it as my signature weapon, I saw the smile on your face, even though you tried to hide it. _

_Your favourite biscuit is the same as mine. We both like Butter-shortbread. You buy me a tin every year for Christmas. You wear purple socks and tap your pen against your glasses when you're thinking..._

 

“...Mer....Merrrr....” he murmured, trying to force an unwilling mouth into difficult shapes that he was certain at one point he had been able to speak without the slightest effort.

 

Merlin smiled again.

 

“ _Very_ good Harry. One more question. If you can't answer it. That's fine...”

 

He set the clipboard down on the bed, looking to him earnestly now.

 

“...do you remember what happened?”

 

Harry closed his eye, and thought hard.

 

There was only so much he remembered...only a few things...and none of them seemed to make sense...

 

_ Lancelot was dead...Lancelot...James...Lancelot....James...James was dead...Lee...was dead...Lee was not Lancelot, but James was Lancelot. _

_Yes. James._

_ James was dead...he was in half. They cut him in half. Who does that? Who cuts men in half?  _

_...And Arthur wanted a new Lancelot... _

_And there was..._

_ Something...there was fast food...and wine. Good wine, actually. _

_ Fast food served with fine wine and pointlessly long knives. _

_Oh, and the taste of something foul in his mouth...that had something to do with climate control._

_ The stench of...something disgusting in his nose... _

_ But something more than that... _

_Something more pressing that was probably why he couldn't speak._

_ Something that was sat heavily on his tongue like a lead weight and was daring him to name it. _

_ A Rumpulstiltskin that held his voice to ransom. _

 

He looked to Merlin and hesitantly raised a shaking hand to his left side.

The side he had not been able to see out of for a week now. 

The side that he could feel padding on, when he touched it.

 

_ Something bad happened to me, didn't it? _

 

Merlin looked sadly at him and gently pulled his hand away before laying it back in his lap.

 

“...Y'lost your eye, Harry.” he sighed sadly. “...I'm no' gonna bullshit you.”

 

Harry swallowed.

 

He had considered it. Of course. 

 

He had felt the distinct numbness in his cheek, his temple, his face. The padding the fact his eyelid didn't quite move properly and the fact that there was something distinctly hushed about the way the nurses dressed the wound when he would stare up at them, silently screaming for answers.

 

“...Does the name Richmond Valentine ring any bells?”

 

“ _Well, this ain't that kinda movie.”_

 

Harry's eye widened in alarm and his hand shot his left eye, the numbed fingertips pulling at the padding urgently to feel what damage that the gun, that he now saw with startling clarity in his minds eye, had done.

 

Merlin took his hand and held it between both of his. Keeping it captive in the cradled warmth between his fingers.

 

“Harry... **Ha-rry.** ” he said more urgently. “...it's okay. It's alright...shh...Shhh....” he urged as Harry made several murmurs that were all desperately pressing things that blended together pathetically as his tongue rolled over and failed to hit the right spot in his mouth.

 

“...He's dead...He's dead...” Merlin soothed. “Valentine's dead.”

 

Harry looked to Merlin imploringly and swallowed the excess of saliva collecting in his mouth.

 

“...Harry, I swear t'God.” he began, putting his hand back into his lap. “I'm gonna help y'in every single way that I can. Do y'understand?”

 

Harry felt the emotion that sat behind his Adams apple swell up, and nodded. Despair scratching behind his eyes and making him ache as his oldest friend promised him something that he wasn't even sure he could fulfil at his end of the bargain.

 

He nodded slowly and swallowed, looking down at the hand that shook constantly in it's still twin.

 

Merlin ran his hands down his face tiredly and sat back as though he'd just run a marathon.

 

“...We're gonna get there, Harry. Promise.” he sighed getting up, and turning around to pull the curtain around Harry's bed back. “Even if I have to bribe y'with shortbread and bloody Guiness...”

 

“...Egg—Egg...sy.”

 

Merlin turned, slowly, hearing the one name he had been expecting, long before now. Worried that he had forgotten it entirely. Forgotten it _all_ , entirely.

That the boy had slipped through the crack in his skull and into nothingness, just the ghost of a six year old boy sat cross legged on his living room

 

“...say it again.” Merlin didn't ask, but insisted.

 

Harry's brown eye was big, doleful, and desperate now as the imp that sat on his tongue vanished into smoke and he could say it...

Remember it...

That boy...The boy with the green eyes...the blonde hair...and the cheekiest smile he had ever witnessed.

_Eggsy_. 

_Eggsy_.

 

 

“...Eggsy.” Harry replied, his jaw set. “...Eggsy?”

 

Merlin nodded with a satisfied, yet sad smile.

 

“...He bides, Harry. He bides.”

 

*

 

“Hold still.”

 

“Nnn...Nnno.” Harry pushed Merlin's hand away with his left, pulling his head away from the offending comb.

 

“Harry, stop being a fidget and let me comb y'hair. Y'look a scruff.”

 

“...Nno!” Harry repeated, pulling his head away again leaving Merlin to comb the thin air.

 

“What's gotten into you?!” he asked, staring at the man that was refusing, for the first time in his life it seemed, to be groomed.

 

“...To...the Lll...Left.” Harry replied. “...C...Comb it to the Lll...Left.”

 

“Harry. Since I've known you, you've always had your bloody hair combed to the righ--...” Merlin sighed suddenly, dropping the hand with the comb to his lap. “...I get it...I get it.”

 

Harry swallowed guiltily. He suddenly felt a hot flush of self-awareness prickle on his face.

 

“...Shouldn't have let y'have a mirror yet...that was my fault...” he sighed, putting the comb on the table that sat beside's Harry's bed.

 

Harry shook his head.

 

“...Nee...Needed to...s...ss...see the d...d... **dam** - **age**.” he said, annunciating it in stages as Merlin had coached him to. “...been...too ll...ll long...”

 

“Three months. And you're getting there.” Merlin replied, sighing and walking back over to Harry before slowly taming Harry's wayward hair to the left. “...Three months...and you're speaking...you remember everything...You're even feeding yourself unassisted now. That's a big deal.”

 

Harry swallowed and closed his remaining eye as Merlin neared the now healing scar where they had repaired his skull.

The cold metal now becoming less alien to him now, and more part of him, though they would still not let him see the socket where at one point his left eye had been.

 

Merlin took care over it, and smoothing his hair, he sighed.

 

“...Rome wasn't built in a day, Harry. Y'need to be patient. You're in 'recovery'.”

 

“...ww...wworld has g...g....gg....gone to _shit_.”

 

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

 

“Amazin' how the swearwords always come out crystal clear.”

 

“...G...get _fucked_.”

 

Merlin suppressed a chuckle and managed to comb his hair over to the left, hiding most of the white scar, that despite precision needlework on the operating table had managed to leave a faint white firework of a scar.

 

Harry looked up at him.

 

He wanted to say so much.

 

How it amazed him how a bald man could work a comb so efficiently. 

How Merlin was really quite adept at lightening the mood without cracking a smile.

How much he appreciated the man spending time he was so desperately needed elsewhere as acting Arthur with him, helping him and encouraging him.

How he wished to God he had died instead of having to live with the blood of all those people stained into his skin...

But in the end only one sentence made it out.

 

“...Wh...When are you g...g.....going to let....Eggsy...come see me?”

 

“I've told you. He's busy doing your job.” Merlin replied, concentrating on the back of his head now. “...Seeing as you're too damn lazy to get off your arse and get into the office.”

 

It was a joke, and Harry managed a small smile, but still, he wanted to know why Eggsy hadn't simply flicked his fingers up at Merlin and stormed down here to tell him off for being asleep for two months.

 

He looked into the mirror that stood on the table next to his bed and saw something like the man he used to be. 

He looked thinner, more lined, more...gaunt...

The white padding over his left eye taped into place, obscuring most of his left side, the hair now covering the worst of the scar.

 

It made him realize that there was probably a reason Eggsy didn't want to come and see him and that by asking he simply looked like a bad tempered old man in a retirement home who insisted on his grands--

 

“...I b-bet my s...suit is...r...ruined.” he said, changing the topic both mentally, and verbally.

 

“...Wrecked.” Merlin conceded. “They had t'cut it off of you in Kentucky when they found you.”

 

Harry flinched. He liked that suit. He'd had it for at least 20 years.

 

“... _fuck_.”

 

“...Eggsy's held up remarkably. The suit only had to spend a few days in the shop.”

 

Harry's eye moved to look at him, though it clearly couldn't as Merlin combed the back of his head.

 

Merlin had told Harry that Eggsy had almost single handedly taken down Valentine and Gazelle on V-day and stopped what could have been a mass genocide of the human race.

Harry had been torn between bursting with pride and agonizing over how fucking ridiculous it all was.

 

He had also told Harry that Chester King was one of the people who sided with Valentine how Eggsy had managed to realize that Chester intended to poison him if he did not agree to join him and Valentine and had switched the glasses on him.

 

“...You hhh...hh...haven't told me...yet....who...as-as...as-cended...to A...Arthur.”

 

“Nobody.” Merlin replied, stepping back and admiring his work. “...I'm still doing all the bloody legwork.”

 

“...Then wh-wh-whose rr...rr..... **ro** - **le** did Eggsy take?”

 

Merlin put the comb down and turned away.

 

“I'm going t'make some tea.” he muttered.

 

“...Merlin.” responded Harry pointedly, putting his fist on the table.

 

Merlin sighed and turned around.

 

“... _You_ , Harry. _You died_.”

 

Harry gave an amused half-smile at Merlin's dark brand of humour but when Merlin remained quiet as he moved to the kettle that sat in the corner of Harry's private room with slumped, defeated shoulders--Harry knew he wasn't joking.

 

“...D...D....D....Does Eggsy think I'm d-d-dead?” he asked softly, his eyebrow dropping sadly.

 

He sighed, dumping a teabag into the mug.

 

“...Harry. You...' _were_ ' dead.” he muttered, pouring on hot water and pulling a teaspoon from the tray that sat next to the mugs. “...we saw a bullet go through your eye...your feed went dead.”

 

Harry swallowed uncomfortably.

 

With his returning speech, his returning motor skills also came the memories...then the nightmares that were borne of painkillers, a healing brain, exhaustion, and guilt.

 

“I put a message out to every morgue and hospital in Kentucky. Hoping one of them had 'my brothers' body.” Merlin stirred his tea with the spoon before stirring Harry's and threw the spoon into the sink with a soft 'clink' before turning to Harry with the beaker full of hot tea before setting it down in front of him.

 

“The boy needed... _closure_...” he sighed sitting again, his hands wrapped around his mug. “...Needed a funeral. We all did. We'd just lost Lancelot, without a body to bury. Lost Chester...rather not have had to bury him.”

 

He took a sip of tea.

 

“...Got a fax back about two days after V-Day from the ICU of some religious hospital. They'd ID'd you as a 'John Doe' in their Intensive Care Unit from the flyer I sent out. The only victim left of the South Glade massacre that had survived.”

 

Harry blinked at him, overcome with this strange grief that seemed to exist outside of him. Like he was a ghost looking at himself.

 

“Soon as you were stable, I got you flown home. Straight to HQ...Only me, Morgana, and a few of the higher ups knew you were still alive and none of us dared hoped you'd survive. Let alone recover, but you...hung on.”

 

Merlin removed his ever present glasses and rested them on the table next to his mug.

 

“...We called the best experts Kingsman had access to. The ones that were left after V-day. You won't believe how many of those 'geniuses' were happy to have that tech linked to their soft tissue.”

 

Merlin sipped his tea.

 

“...Just...we never dared tell him...if we told him y'were alive...but y'never woke up...what d'y'think that would do to the lad?”

 

Harry bowed his head.

 

Of course...Of course...

It was a wise move. 

Merlin always had had good presence of mind. But his heart ached to think of Eggsy out there, his heart heavy with grief still, while Harry sat here, alive and... _almost_ well.

 

But perhaps it was easier this way. Perhaps until Harry could be whole again, until he could come back into his life, complete and healthy and the Galaha--

 

Harry looked to Merlin who had replaced his glasses and was now draining his mug.

 

“...Does th...this mm...mMm....mean that I have n...nn....nnn....”

 

It was getting stuck behind his tongue and he curled his fist up in a ball.

 

“...We are still in need of an Arthur, Harry.”

 

“...Get fucked.”

 

 

*

 

“Y'sure you want to do this?”

 

Harry nodded, his eye fixed, and his jaw set as he held onto the walking frame.

 

“Alright, remember what the Physio said. _Slow_ , _steady_ , _steps_.”

 

“Thank you, Merlin.” Harry nodded with a slight sigh. “...I think I can just about remember that.”

 

Merlin stood back, folding his arms to watch Harry take the first few shaky steps unassisted.

 

Of course, only Harry Hart would insist on dressing for such an occasion—though seeing him in something other than a hospital gown or Kingsman issue pajamas for the first time in four months was a relief, even if he had only graduated to a sweater and slacks.

 

Harry lifted the frame and then placed it a few inches in front of him, holding onto the grey handles before shuffling forwards on uncertain legs.

 

Merlin drew a breath to praise his friend but the way Harry looked at him made him realize it would be a fatal mistake. The man was in recovery, but Merlin wouldn't put it past him to seize the aluminium frame and throw it in his direction.

 

“...Good work.” he nodded instead. “...Slow and steady. Now, don't over do it. Your leg muscles are wasted, you'll need to take it easy for a month or two, perhaps more physio, light exercise...”

 

“I plan on ww... **w** alking out of here as soon as I c- **c** an, Merlin.”

 

“Oh Cheers very much.” Merlin began with a faked indignant tone. “...Tha's gratitude...”

 

“Not that I don't enjoy our little meetings. Sitting here day after day in this glorified vivarium. Being prodded and poked, having my blood extracted gradually in 10ml increments...But I rather miss my bed.” he replied, repeating the motion again, his face set with concentration.

 

“Ah yes, I've taken the liberty of redesigning your home. Remodelling it with grip rails, and had a lift installed in your downstairs bathroom.”

 

The look Harry gave him would have withered anyone else.

 

“...Joking.” Merlin responded, his arms fastened tightly across his chest. “...Everythin' is just as y'left it.”

 

Harry sighed and pushed on, trying a few more steps and was surprised to find that he was starting to feel beads of perspiration on his forehead. 

 

A few months ago, he'd taken on a crowd of thugs in a bar in London with nothing but an umbrella and had barely lost his breath and now he couldn't take three steps without feeling like he was ready for a nap.

 

“...Harry, don't over do it...alright?”

 

Harry held onto the walking frame, his knuckles going white on the grey handles and sighed heavily, aggression etching its way into it.

 

“...This is fucking stupid.” he snapped, bowing his head.

 

Merlin walked over and nodded.

 

“Yes it is. It's really fucking stupid.” he concurred. “...But none of us are born running.”

 

“I've already done this!” he snapped. “I was born, I learned to speak. To walk. To feed myself. Groom myself. Bathe myself...I'VE ALREADY FUCKING DONE THIS!”

 

Merlin was startled by the volume. He had never really heard Harry raise his voice outside of a battle.

 

Harry hung his head.

 

“...I've already...fucking done...this...” he breathed, raising a hand to wipe his brow and face.

 

Merlin wished he could say something witty, or wise. 

 

Something that would soothe the man's turbulent mind or ease his restless spirit. 

 

Something that would make him realize that he was already way ahead of being 6 feet under the earth where they thought he was.

 

Harry sighed heavily and leaned on the frame, waiting for a moment to start again, a moment to make him continue onwards, or give up again...

 

“...Eggsy returned from France this morning...” Merlin offered softly. “...He managed to take out an assassin that was planning to take out the President...with his umbrella.”

 

Harry raised his head, his remaining eye narrowing in confusion.

 

“...France?”

 

“...Y'know what he said?”

 

Harry shook his head wordlessly.

 

“...He said: 'I wish I'd asked Harry how he did that 'swing and flick'...”

 

Harry shook his head.

 

“...I...”

 

“He talks about you all of the time, Harry.”

 

Harry set his jaw and swallowed thickly.

 

“All of the time.” Merlin repeated. “He asks how you took your tea. What sort of cartridge you preferred in the Tokarev. He's had most of his new suits tailored to look like yours. He's even started clipping the front pages of The Sun for his wall.”

 

Harry blinked a few times and looked down at his hands again.

 

“...Harry, you're gonna be so proud of him.”

 

“...I **AM** proud of him.” he corrected brusquely.. “...I'm proud of him for everything he's done. From following me to that fitting room that night, to passing the tests, I'm even fucking proud of him for not shooting his bloody dog.”

 

“Then go back to him. Go back to him and tell him.” Merlin continued. “You go back to him, and you show him what the legend has become. The legend he's aspiring to be. You show him that you've come back from the dead, more a man than ever before. You keep at this and you relearn it until it becomes natural again and you go back to him as a whole man.”

 

“I'm trying.” Harry said after a heavy moment.

 

“Then keep at it. And one day you'll walk out of here. Whole again.”

 

“...But less an eye...”

 

Merlin grinned slightly.

 

“...I'm glad y'brought that up.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“...I just need your signature on a blueprint I've been working on...”

 

“...oh.”

 

 

*

 

“So...tell me, Merlin...” Harry began with a smirk. “...How many pictures of my eyes did you have to study?” he asked as he gazed at the prototype of his new eye.

 

“Enough of that.” Merlin sighed sitting down with the documents Harry needed to sign. 

 

“I'm curious. You've got the colour practically spot on.” Harry grinned, looking at the paper and tilting it. “...How many?”

 

“Enough.” Merlin replied, both as a way to end the awkward line of questioning and to answer his question. “Question, though it seems rather redundant, d'y'like it?”

 

“I do.” he nodded, setting down the picture.

 

“Good. Now this is where it gets clever...” Merlin smiled. “...I've managed, to wangle a little gizmo into it that I think y-”

 

“No, Merlin.” Harry said, shaking his head.

 

“What?” Merlin asked with an air of innocence.

 

“No gizmo in the visual prosthesis. Having it work as a normal eye is...much, much more than I could ask for, but please, no random contraptions. I'm not Inspector-Bloody-Gadget.”

 

“Hear me out, alright!” 

 

Harry forgot just how sensitive Merlin got when it came to his devices, but Harry drew the line at having a bloody camera in his eye that linked to base.

 

“...Now listen...if y'look here...” he began, pointing to the blueprint with the end of his mechanical pencil. “...you'll notice that there's something new...blink 6 times, in rapid succession, and you'll activate a 3 second 'flash' that will render anyone who witnesses it unconscious for 15 minutes.”

 

Harry was exasperated. 

 

“A flash grenade...in my eye.”

 

“I..--ah--actually, it's no' technically a grenade, because your eye will not be exploding.” Merlin corrected, adjusting his glasses.

 

“Oh, forgive me, because that's such a relief...”

 

“Harry, come on, think of the possibilities. You, weapons gone, tied to a chair, getting interrogated, they ask if you have any last requests, you bat those brown eyes of yours, and boom...interrogator, knocked out cold, givin' you chance to skedaddle.”

 

“No boom.” Harry pointed out.

 

“Well, yes, No boom.”

 

Harry had to admit. It sounded rather good in that scenario. A weapon they couldn't frisk him for.

 

“You're adamant that I'll be fit enough for field work?” he continued, gazing at the blue print.

 

“I see no reason why not. New eye, you're able to walk without the frame now.” Merlin said.

 

“Still using a cane.” Harry reminded him.

 

“Yes, but that's soon remedied.” Merlin countered.

 

“There's the small matter of the palsy in my right hand.”

 

“Which is diminishing every day.” Merlin replied.

 

“And the headaches...”

 

“Painkillers and treatment, Harry, C'mon...”

 

Harry sighed and looked at the blueprint.

 

“...Will I be safe from the flash?” he asked.

 

“Just close your right eye and you'll be fine. It has a 12 hour recharge, so you can only use it once, perhaps twice a day.”

 

“Is it safe?”

 

“...Harry, y'wound me...” Merlin sighed.

 

“Give me the bloody pen.”

 

Merlin handed over the pen and grinned as he took it, signing his name shakily on the line before handing it back.

 

“We'll have the new eye in and ready to go in a few weeks. And then you'll have full 20/20 vision again.” Merlin smiled, getting up and taking the document to the fax machine that sat in the office at the edge of the medical wing.

 

“...Amelia was so excited to get this through. I faxed it to her gone midnight and she faxed me straight back. 

 

She's not 100% on board with its working title though. I rather like it. 'The Twinkle'. Gives it a fun and friendly feel. Just wait, Harry...” he began, sliding it into the fax machine and dialling the Berlin HQ. “...soon, I'll have Bors asking if he can have one. Perhaps, I can make it into a contact lens...”

 

“...Merlin...?” Merlin heard Harry murmur from the other room.

 

“...Yes, Harry?” he called back. “...No second thoughts now, Its gone, I've faxed it.”

 

“... _Merlin_...”

 

Merlin walked back through to see Harry sat back in his chair, he'd gone pale, and looked not quite right...

 

“...Harry?”

 

“...I...I feel strange...” he mumbled vaguely.

 

Merlin moved to stand in front of Harry, leaning down and looking at him.

 

“...Harry, look at me, pal.”

 

Harry looked up at him, his eye seemed dazed, glazed and unfocused.

 

“...y'in any pain?”

 

“...I feel really sick, Merlin...I think I'm going to...” he swallowed nauseously. 

 

Merlin got up and quickly reached for a cardboard bowl that was in Harry's beside cabinet but as he did, Harry pitched forwards out of his seat.

 

Merlin barely had time to catch him and lower him to the floor.

 

“Harry!? Harry!!”

 

He was shaking, violently. His body stiff and the limbs flailing and hitting the floor.

 

He was having a seizure.

 

Merlin grabbed the pillow from the chair and slid it under his head.

 

“ 'GANA! MORGANA! GET IN HERE!” he yelled into the corridor as he pushed the table and chair away from Harry's long, mutinying limbs.

 

Morgana scattered in from the nearby room, her black hair coming loose from its updo in the haste.

 

“What's happened?” she asked staring at the two men now on the floor, seeing Harry's shaking limbs.

 

“He's having a seizure.” Merlin replied, looking at his watch and counting the time. “...just fell forwards and started shaking...”

 

“Shall I call _Morgan_?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, go. Quickly, patch him int'm'feed if y'can.”

 

Morgana ran back out of the lab as Merlin looked down at his oldest friend convulse and twitch in front of him.

 

“It's alright Harry, It's alright. I've gotcha, Pal. I'm here...” he soothed, looking down at him, wondering what the hell he should do.

 

If he could do anything.

 

If somehow something had...gone wrong...and this was it...

 

Merlin watched for one minute twenty seconds of frozen, helpless panic before Harry finally lapsed onto his back, his limbs still at last, his breath coming in soft pants.

 

Merlin exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding and gently rolled him onto his side into the recovery position.

 

Just then, the voice of _Morgan-Tud_ , the Kingsman Physician came into his ear.

 

“...Merlin, is there a problem?”

 

“ _Galah_ —Harry, just had a seizure. Can you see my feed?”

 

“Yes. Has it stopped?”

 

“Yes. Just now.”

 

“...Keep him on his side, and wait for him to regain consciousness. Help him into his bed and monitor him closely for the next 24 hours. I can be there by dawn.”

 

“...he was fine, Morgan. I don't understand it. I was talkin' t'him an' he was fine.”

 

“...we discussed this Merlin. We said that seizures were likely. 65% of gunshot trauma patients who survive head wounds develop some form of--”

 

“Ach, I know...but he's...he was...he was doin' so well...This is gonna knock him back, Morgan. Can't we do _somethin_ '?”

 

“When I arrive, we'll discuss treatment. I need to see scans, X-rays, bloods...Just, reassure him, Merlin. He trusts you more than he trusts me.”

 

“...Understood.” he nodded. “...Keep him comfortable?”

 

“Yes. See you at dawn.”

 

Merlin watched for a further five minutes, waiting for him to regain consciousness before he realized that it wasn't going to happen just yet.

 

Getting to his feet, he bent down and pulled Harry up under his arms, and pulling him towards his bed before wrestling him into it, making sure the man was laying on his side as he tucked uncooperative arms and legs into the hospital bed.

 

“...Shall I pop the kettle on?”

 

Merlin turned around and looked to Morgana who was stood in the door way, picking at the cuticle on her thumb. Something she did when she was nervous. 

 

Out of her depth. Just like him.

 

“...Please.” he replied softly before looking back to Harry who seemed to be resting peacefully enough now.

 

He sat down besides the bed, tugging the woollen blanket straight across the man's body, hoping that this was just some fluke. Something to do with the medication, or him not getting enough sleep, or...something that wasn't to do with the brain injury.

 

Something like this was life changing...And Harry's life had already changed so much, so quickly.

 

It seemed so unfair.

 

For half a moment, he considered calling Eggsy, telling him everything and asking him to come in and be here for Harry, but he knew that Harry would never forgive him.

 

_ Even now. _

 

Merlin sighed heavily and ran his hands over his forehead and temples, letting his cool long fingers soothe a head that was fit to burst.

 

“...M...Merlin...?” came a sleepy voice.

 

He looked up to see Harry staring at him blearily.

 

“...Did I doze off?” he asked softly.

 

Merlin shook his head and leaned forwards, pulling the blanket up around him a little more.

 

“...get some rest, we'll talk about it later...alright?”

 

Harry looked like he wanted to argue, but the siren song of sleep was too great and he closed his eye again, turning his head to the left to go back to sleep.

 

 

*

 

Harry looked at himself in the full length dress mirror in Fitting Room One. His new eye scanning and admiring the cut of a new suit. New shoes. New hair style.

 

New Man.

 

Merlin was stood behind him, acting the part of a tailor it seemed as he brushed the shoulder pads of the jacket off and leaned back to admire.

 

“How d'you feel?”

 

Harry looked at the man in the mirror, the unfamiliar man who seemed to resemble him, but not how he felt.

 

“...I feel alright.” he replied.

 

“Alright, once more with feeling.” Merlin prompted, folding his arms.

 

“...Broken. Merlin.”

 

Merlin looked to his reflection in the mirror, meeting his eyes, hoping that the hardness in them was enough to warn Harry off this self-depreciation.

 

Harry gazed at the reflection, tilting his head to admire the suit...even in his melancholy, he had to appreciate the cut and style.

 

“...Still...even broken things can be made to look like new...”

 

Merlin sighed again, and took off his glasses, pinching the skin between his eyebrows.

 

“Harry, You're p'haps my closest friend, and God knows when I thought you were dead, I p'haps shed a tear, but right now m'friend, I could shoot y'myself.”

 

Harry shot him a look of surprise in the mirror.

 

“You are every inch the man you were before that crazed fuck-nut with a penchant for genocide shot you. 

 

You fucking survived a bullet to the brain. Clawed your way out of a coma. Struggled to learn to walk, talk, eat, bathe and EXIST again.

 

Don't you dare tell me you're broken, Harry Hart. I fuckin' helped y'put yourself back together.”

 

Harry felt shame flood his face and looked down at the Oxfords he wore.

 

He had never thanked Merlin for all he had done...and had not acknowledged the sacrifices of time, energy...of the personal sacrifices he had made as he had sat there, at times sometimes spoon feeding Harry his lunch, or holding his hand during tests just so that he had someone there.

 

Of how he had been patient in watching Harry take out, clean and replace his eye, of standing nearby when he was learning to walk without the frame, giving occasional, well meant comments of support.

 

Of just talking, when he needed someone to talk to. Or someone to be silent with.

 

Merlin was now brushing down the back of Harry's jacket.

 

“...You have his address?” he asked, changing the subject.

 

Harry nodded. 

 

“Thank you. I know it's against protocol--”

 

“--Given that our last leader sided with a terrorist and attempted to poison a candidate, I think protocol has gone out of the window, don't you?”

 

Harry gave a soft smirk.

 

“...So when are you going t'tell the others?”

 

“After I have told him.”

 

Merlin nodded.

 

He would, of course need to tell them, if he turned up at the next meeting which was due to propose the next Arthur, he would need to explain how he rose from the dead.

“Alright...you're fit t'go.”

  
  


Harry nodded and turned to Merlin, offering his right hand that still shook occasionally.

  
  


Merlin looked at it quizzically before taking it and shaking it.

  
  


“...You've been an inexpressible comfort to me, these past few months, Merlin. My companion, my friend, my coach, my nurse, and my confidante. Thank You.”

  
  


Harry reached forwards and squeezed Merlin's elbow softly in gratitude.

  
  


“Not at all. It's been my honour, _Sir_.”

 

Harry gave him a soft smile before leaving the fitting room.

 

Merlin sighed again, putting the clothes brush back before watching the taller, older man get into the taxi and head off to Eggsy's hotel that he was staying in tonight.

  
  


Hoping that this time, Harry didn't fuck him his second shot at happiness.

  
  


After all, it wasn't every day you convalesced from death.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do an accurate representation, as far as possible, over how Harry would recover from a head injury.
> 
> I wanted to show the effort, the time, the frustration that even someone as focused, determined and as dedicated as Harry would still have a hard time coping.


End file.
